Page 95 of Something Borrowed

“It was like Lord of the Fucking Flies in that ball pit, Stanley. Civilisation's natural rules were off the table, anarchy in their place. At one point, I remember being wedgied over the edge of the big slide. It’s left me with a lifetime distrust of big drops.”

“I can’t believe he forgot you.”

“His dick was screaming louder than his child, so he sidled after our headmaster’s wife, who he apparently fucked in the ballpark car park.”

“Hedidn’t.” I’m scandalised and sit up. “Really? Mrs Chester, the maths teacher with the wolfhound?”

“That’s her. Do you remember that fucking thing? It was a bit too much wolf for my comfort, and when you were called to her classroom, it used to stare at you like you were dinner.”

“It used to walk to the betting shop on the high street on its own.”

“Thereby explaining Mister Chester’s sudden exit from his job a few months later under a cloud of suspicion about the misuse of the tuck shop funds.”

I shake my head. “Rollo shagged her in the car park. I can’t believe it.”

“Do you think that’s why I failed maths in Year Three?”

I chuckle. “If you want to think that then who am I to quibble?”

His voice is once more full of that sweet humour that I love so much. I settle against him on the bed, feeling his weight against mine. I can smell his shampoo and his body wash. It’s something expensive, as Raff is addicted to high-end body and face products. It’s impossible to move quickly through the beauty department of Harvey Nicks when you’re with him.

Quietness settles in the room, disturbed only by the constant rush of the waves on the shore.

“What time is it?” I ask idly.

“It’s about six o’clock. Where’s your watch?”

I shrug. “I left it here when I got changed earlier.”

“Ah, when you set off to talk with the delectable Chris.”

His voice sounds tight once more, and I turn my head on the pillow, looking for his blur. However, the room is getting dark, so I can hardly see anything now.

“You never got on.”

He sniffs loudly. “I think it was more that he hated my guts when he first met me, and it was downhill from then on.”

“I liked him when we went out.”

“Of course you did.” His voice is strained.

“You, okay?” I ask, suddenly worried. I sit up as a thought occurs to me. “Did you bang your head?” I ask fiercely.

“No.”

“Rafferty Albert Kendrick.”

“Oh my god,what?”

“Did you hit your head when you fell?”

“Maybe when I came down the slope, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s fine.”

“It is not fine. We need to get you to a doctor.”

“I don’t need one ofthose.” He’s characteristically outraged. The medical profession would have an easier run of it if there were only Raff in the world. He hates feeling like he’s messing people about.

“Well, if you won’t go, you know the drill.”

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